


Gardenias

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of Drabbles by Helmaninquiel [64]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: Imagine scolding a tween Sam and Frodo for ruining your gardenias





	

The giggling sound of hobbits met your ears early one morning, just after breakfast, while the sausage for second breakfast still roasted over the fire - getting to the perfect smokey taste you loved. Two familiar, equally as dangerous, giggles. You closed your eyes, praying that they wouldn’t make their way into your yard.

Alas, your prayers weren’t answered. 

“Sam! Throw it here!” you heard the dark haired brat cry. 

“We shouldn’t be going in Mrs. Y/L/N’s yard!” Samwise Gamgee warned. At least that brat had a bit more sense. “She got quite angry with us last time.”

“Oh, she doesn’t mind. She’s fond of us.” Fond of them, your arse. Well, sure, there was a bit of a soft spot for the two rambunctious tween hobbits, who filled your empty mornings with a bit of laughter and some witty remarks you were sure their mothers would smack them over. 

Frodo was an alright lad, his mother not even a summer gone, and you understood he was going through such a tough time. Tragic, truly. But Samwise had never ceased to amaze you, in how welcoming he was to the new hobbit to Bag End. He had a good heart, even if he was easily tempted into mischievous manners with Frodo.

You heard your gate opening too quietly to have been a normal person entering. Only one that snuck through in hopes not to alert you. Children. Did they not think that since you could not see them, you would not hear them? They were hardly quiet. Their feet crunched across the grass with every step. 

“Throw it, Sam!” Frodo cried. “Throw it here!” No sense of discretion at all. 

Which did a Hobbit good, you felt. No hobbits should be keeping things secret anyway, these days. Hobbits were an open and outspoken folk, whose manners of mischief were usually weaned out of them by their tween years. 

Frodo’s mother had obviously not done so. 

The crash was evidence enough of that. You winced at the sound, like it was an arrow piercing your heart, and knew, just knew from the silence that followed, that your flowers had not been spared. 

You rose silently, and the closer you got to your door, the more you could hear hurried whispering and urgent movements. 

You jerked your door open just in time to see the hobbits gathered at the front gate, trying to slip through quietly.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mister Baggins?” you spoke sharply. The boy jumped and glanced up at you, his blue eyes wide in fear. “Mister Gamgee?”

“Don’t tell Uncle. We’re sorry-”

“Real sorry, Mrs. Y/L/N.” You pursed your lips, glancing at the dirt that was gathered around you. And your poor gardenias littered on the ground, trampled and looking worse for wear. You sucked in a slow breath, and released it. 

“I’m sure you are. Which is why you’ll be cleaning this mess up and replanting them.” Frodo’s eyes widened. “I’m not potting them twice. You’ll be doing it to make amends.”

“Yes, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Sam said carefully. You gave an appeased nod, and when they just stood there, you raised an eyebrow. 

“Well? They’re not going to plant themselves.” Sam was the first to get to it, picking up the broken pottery pieces. “There are more pots in the shed, and plenty of dirt to go around, I should think. Perhaps the quicker it’s done, the more willing I’ll be to share lunch with you.” That really got them moving. You couldn’t hide your smile of amusement. 

“Will there be sandwiches?” Frodo spoke up.

You feigned nonchalance. “I suppose that depends on how well you take care of my Gardenias." 

Frodo’s eyes widened, and he hurriedly began to help Sam with the shards of pottery. You turned back towards your home, and smile again. Hobbitlings. 

"Come on, Mr. Frodo. It’s not so bad. My dad gardens, and he lets me help sometimes. Nothing to it,” you heard Samwise encourage. You just hoped that they didn’t destroy your gardenias. It had taken you all spring to grow them. 


End file.
